


Elizabeth Scott

by PigeonLove



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, Gothic Romance, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PigeonLove/pseuds/PigeonLove
Summary: This is Lizzington as the gothic novel Jane Eyre





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Blacklist or *Jane Eyre but I love them both. I tried to wed the Blacklist characters to the story of Jane Eyre with massive alterations and ridiculous edits. I hope it will be enjoyable to read, and not just bizarre. This is all about true love, mushy mushy love. Comments are welcome. Please be kind and thanks for reading. 
> 
> *Not sure if this is crossover or just 'in the style of'

I looked that the folded foolscap that held my fate. I could no longer read it in the weak moonlight that streamed through the carriage window, but it was a talisman against the unknown. I had never been anywhere and having being a tenant of the Lowood School so long, I was eager to escape the cruelty and religiosity of its managers. My future occupation was an unusual one for a young woman but as a penniless orphan, my choices were few. I was grateful to have any at all.

The carriage horses moved slowly along the road and the carriage rose and fell with the terrain. Against the darkening sky I could see a long tall silhouette crowned with grey battlements; this had to be Thornfield Hall. Of the gardens and grounds I could see little, for the sun was long gone from the sky but they were substantial. I felt a little chill from the night air but I did not withdraw. Indeed, I couldn’t tear my eyes away, as the my future rose before me in the night.

I was greeted by my correspondent. It was Mrs. Caplin that had signed my letter of hire and I was eager to make an assessment. My apprehension was natural considering the coldness of my teachers and headmistresses at my previous abode but though her face was sharp, I could see a smile at the corners of her mouth.

She was a slender neat middle aged lady in a white sateen bonnet and sparking pinafore over a grey dress of fine damask. She wore a pair of spectacles. Her greeting was with far more warmth that I was used to. She helped me off with my bonnet and cloak and handed them off to a maidservant, who presumably whisked them away to my quarters.

“Miss Scott, it is so pleasant to meet you, please warm yourself by the fire.” She led me to a drawing room where a cheery fire burned in the grate. I sat in the wing-backed chair tilted toward the fire and was feeling myself quite comfortable now.

“I have had Leah make some sandwiches for you, so please help yourself. Would you like sugar in your tea?” She asked as she poured. 

“Yes please, thank you.” I was a little surprised that the lady of the house was taking care of me thusly and I was quite curious about her personality. The landed people that I have met, though few, were not particularly kind to underlings and hires. “Your home is quite stately, Mrs. Caplin.”

“Oh dear me child, this is not my home. I only work here, as you do. Mr. Reddington owns this estate. Have you not heard of him?” She asked, passing me a napkin.

“Forgive me, I have not. Is he here?” 

“Oh no, Mr. Reddington is seldom here. He has many business enterprises that keep him in London or on the continent most of the year. It’s his accounts you will be working on. He needed some clerking duties and he advised me to hire… to hire someone such as yourself. He has a suspicion of accountants and wanted a complete novice.”

“I see.” I sipped my tea but in fact I did not see. It was so strange and unusual for a landed gentleman to consider something so unlikely as a woman clerk. “And what type of gentleman is Mr. Reddington? Is he a kind master?” 

“Oh, I suppose he is when he is here, kind to the people working for him. But he does not care much for society and despises foolishness. It is good you are so clever Miss Scott.” Her eyes seened to twinkle.

I wanted to explore his personality further but my eyes were growing heavy with the fire and the meal. 

“Oh my dear, please, let us go up to your room before you fall asleep right here,” She kindly took my arm as I rose and I felt such gratitude. My past experiences with people have not been kind as I have no money or land to offer and no family to protect me as I was an orphan. Her warmth was cozier than the fire.

We lit to the second floor up the broad main staircase; my room was nearly the back.

“The front rooms are quite old and fancy but a little drafty. I thought you would prefer a smaller and more modern appointments.” She led me, candelabra held high, through the dark passage. Just then there was a strange laugh coming from the upper floor; it was low and muffled. The hairs stood up on the back of my head to hear it, but Mrs. Caplin seemed unmoved.

“What..what is that?” I asked whispering, growing closer to her. The narrow stair to the attic floor was shadowed.

“Ah, that’s probably Grace Poole, one of the servants here. I will saying something to her about the noise.” She answered phlegmatically. Her discounting the sound served to put me more at ease, but I didn’t feel fully free of worry.

“Here is your room Miss Scott.” She opened the door and it was a neat small room with fine if plain furniture and whitewashed walls. There was a small fire burning and candles also. It was completely homelike and comforting. I turned to the good lady who hired me with a smile.

“Thank you so much for your many kindnesses, I look forward to working with you.” I said with as much sincerity I could muster. Even though my journey to Thornfield Hall and this situation was quite arduous, the kindness and simple humanity I experienced thus far gave me hope for a bright future. I pushed the strange laugh and all other questions out of my mind. I thought I could find all my happiness here.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I arose and washed my face in the basin. Surveying myself in the glass, I could see that I was thin and pale, my hair straight and plain dark brown. Perhaps my new occupation and tenancy would bring some color to my face. I knew my appearance lack vivacity; I put on one of my three gowns, on a black stuff and endeavored to make myself as neat as possible. 

I joined Ms. Caplin in the breakfast room and had a full repast, so different from the cold gruel and dry bread I was used to. 

“You will be working in the library and I will join you most days but sometimes you will be own your own. I trust that solitude will not be troublesome for you?” She nodded questioningly, spreading marmalade on a piece of well toasted bread.

“Oh indeed no, I am used to solitude - I studied and worked quite on my own at Lowood.” I assured her; this was completely true.

A wave of sympathy passed over her face.

“It was a challenging place.” She asserted softly. Not wanting to ruin such a lovely meal and company with reflecting on my former travails I merely nodded.

Once breakfast was completed, she led me to the library which was very well appointed in dark wood. Booked lined the walls, some quite old, and there were broad tables for reading. 

“These are the account books. You will be copying as written but each of these entries with a red mark, please do not copy these. They are all to be excluded. Everything else should remain the same.”

The long ledgers did not seem too old or faded, but I did not question my task. Quills, inks, a penknife and blotters were all available and arrayed on a table. 

She guided me at first, but once I had mastered the task she excused herself and I worked alone, quite content to be at peace. My mind did wander over Mrs. Caplin’s personage, the absent Reddington and the strange laugh. These thoughts kept me occupied as the task busied my hands. So absorbed was I by my speculation and fancies that I did not notice that the clock was near 12. Mrs. Caplin came in, gently admonishing me.

“My dear, don’t stoop so long without moving. You should take a mid-morning walk in future. In any case, lunch is ready so let us eat.” 

I assented, again marvelling at her solicitude and joined her once more in the dining room, where a lunch of ham and cheeses awaited us. 

Thus my occupation continued for several weeks; on occasions Mrs. Caplin joined me in working in the library but mostly I worked alone. In the long afternoons I would read old books from the library or sketched images in my mind, or of the grounds around Thornfield. Despite this activity, a growing restlessness came upon me. 

When it did so, I was quite suffused with remorse. What of gratitude, Elizabeth? I interrogated myself. So happy I was with my kind manager, my healthy meals, freedom of movement and employment - yet this happiness did not serve to quiet my longings. I was not even sure what my longings were.

Walking around the gardens, grey-brown though they were in the midst of winter, did give my mind distraction. I confess that I felt the want of some adventure, not unlike what I had been reading in the old books that took up my afternoon hours. This was on my mind when Mrs. Caplin gave me the happy task of delivering a letter to Hay, the small village on the outskirts of the estate. 

My day changed in an instant - though the winds blew cold and whipped my cloak, I was happy to be on the path to Hay, as change of scene if nothing else.

My pace on my several miles journey soon warmed me and I begin traversing the lonely winter-washed landscape in earnest, taking care over icy puddles that filled the causeway. I began fancying stories in my head of knights and queens as I went up and down the various hills and gullies that presented a new vistas to my eyes. 

Suddenly from around a hillock came a large and shaggy black hound. Its imposing head was carried by strong shoulders. With a thrill of fear, I thought of the old folk tale of the gytrash, a large black hound or horse that haunted lonely roads to take advantage of travellers.

Just then a horse with rider came along the path the horse’s hooves encounter a thick patch of ice. I knew the gytrash never had a riders so this occurrence broke the spell that has come over me. The skidding horse reared and threw its rider; the man uttered an oath as he hit the ground.

I rushed to the man’s side and he appeared to be in some pain.

“Pilot.” He called the dog to him, his voice deep and gruff. The dog trotted over. 

“Please sir let me help you.” I reached out to offer my hand and he grabbed in and placed another on my shoulder.

“Forgive my familiarity but I do need some assistance.” He leaned on me heavily as he rose up, favoring one leg. “Help me to the stile.” I helped him as he limped to the gate and sat upon it. He was not very tall but broad, perhaps passed his middle forties. His hair was closely shorn and he had fine bones and eyes, but his face looked like someone with the habit of sadness and anger; as thunderstorm was always gathered in his mind.

Once seated he looked at me and said “Now where are you from, the village? I don’t know you”

“No sir, I am from Thornfield Hall.” 

HIs eyes a pale green, seemed to survey me intensely. I had to look away from his strange   
Scrutiny.

“From Thornfield Hall? You are not a servant -” He was trying to assess me.

“No sir, I work with the housekeeper Mrs. Caplin. Sir, your ankle, is it alright? Shall I fetch someone from the village?” 

“You are going to the village?”

“Yes sir, to post a letter,”

“No need, I think I will be able to ride. You can go on your way.” 

“Are you sure, sir. I hate to leave you with your injury.”

“Grab the reins and lead the horse to me.” 

Thusly tasked, I went to the horse, something I would have feared doing own my own volition. I tried to grab the reins but the horse kept shying away until the man laughed. If he had been a handsome and stately gentleman I would have been embarrassed but I felt no such thing.

“Bring me to the horse then.” He leaned on me heavily again as we went towards the creature. He grabbed the reins with ease and mounted with a grunt.

“Now hurry on your mission and I will on mine.” He spurred the horse and it and the dog began racing again down the causeway. I watched them until they were gone, mere moments.

I turned and continued on my journey but I felt my soul refreshed. My help has been sought and it was given. I had done something for someone. The entire experience had quite buoyed me up and this pleasant mood endured even as night grew close as I made my way home.

It was dark by the time I was approaching the hall but the path was lit by moonlight, silver shards of it reflected in the ice. Thoroughly chilled I went to the drawing room immediately, where a fire was burning well and I found a large black dog laying on the hearthrug. 

“Pilot,” I called and the great beast rose and put his head under my hand. I stroked him absently and left to find Mrs. Caplin. She was in the first floor hallway directing servants rushing about. 

“There you are my dear. Mr. Reddington has arrived unexpectedly.” She said with distraction.

“Is that his dog in the library?”

“Yes, his horse fell in the lane so he has gone to bed. The surgeon will be here tomorrow as it seems his ankle has a sprain. Leah, move those linens please.” She went off, giving orders as she went

As I mounted the stair I smiled inwardly. His presence brought excitement. I was quite looking forward to seeing the master of Thornfield again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is enjoyable to those who are not as obsessed with Jane Eyre as I am. You are as obsessed with The Blacklist already or you wouldn't be here. I own neither.

Thornfield was bustling now. Even the mysterious maid, Grace Poole, had emerged from the attic to help put the house right for Mr. Reddington's appearance.

Mrs. Caplin was quite busy too, seeing to his comforts. A long line of tenants visited him in the drawing room. He was not at all about and I did not see him once.

I confess to being disappointed, though I could hardly say why. I was nothing to him, a mere dependent, and could have no claim to his attentions. Even so, I chided myself, his presence brought change and activity, even if I was only a distant observer.

So it was with carefully modified excitement that I heard the news he wished Mrs. Caplin to join him in the drawing room after dinner. She advised me to dress for the evening and not mind his peculiarities too much.

"What peculiarities?" I asked, intrigued. I was eager to get her description of his personality.

"Oh, he can be changeable...even cryptic. I would ignore this aspect. We are used to him already."

This certainly made my interest keen. If she told me he was an upstanding gentleman of perfect protocol I would have expected to find him dull.

Later that evening, dressed in my black silk dress, i entered the drawing room in Mrs. Caplin's shadow. There was a large a cheery fire but the room’s tenant did not look cheered. On the contrary, his eyes were hooded and brooding and his mouth seemed set in habitual grimness.

"May I present Miss Scott?" She said quietly. His only acknowledgement was a wave of his hand.  
I felt relief at his brusqueness; social politesse would have unnerved me. I sat on the sofa and was able to observe him in earnest. His close-shorn hair receded from his temples; his head was well formed, his eyelashes were gold in the firelight. His skin looked roughened by time and perhaps some sadness.

"You think me handsome, Miss Scott?" He asked rather sardonically, tilting his head towards me. "You were studying me rather intently."

"Oh no sir," I answered quickly, dropping my gaze to my folded hands.

"Oh no? Well, you speak your mind." He said with bitter amusement.

"I-I'm sorry sir" I stammered slightly under his fierce look. "I answered too hastily. What I should have said is that looks are of no import and are superficial."

"Why the deuce would you tell me such an outright lie? Many things in life of import are entirely superficial."

I could make no answer to this and remained quiet, meeting his look with what I hoped was polite attention.

"Are you a faerie? Did you bewitch my horse in Hay lane on purpose? He asked with seriousness. I was peripherally aware of Mrs. Caplin's slight frown. Perhaps this was what she meant about his peculiarities.

"No indeed sir. Faeries have quit this land long ago." I answered in the same seriousness.

"If you are not an elf, then where have you been? Who are your people?"

"I attended Lowood school for 11 years; before that I lived with a distant aunt who disowned me."

"Lowood school, a charity school. You admired your headmaster, a worthy man of God?"

"Indeed no sir, I did not admire him." Reverend Brocklehurt, the schoolmaster, had been a petty and cruel man; one of the reasons my life had been so arduous prior to Thornfield.

"A nun not admiring her priest. Blasphemy." He seemed amused rather than disturbed by the idea.

"He was mean with our food; he cut off our hair to combat vanity, he was cold, unsympathetic and told us frightful stories before bed that left us in terror. He earned no admiration."

 

Mrs. Caplin looked saddened to hear of this situation but Mr. Reddington was full of interest, even amusement.  
"Even someone of priestly status needs to earn your admiration, Miss Scott. I indeed shall make note of your standards. But what of your family? Did you learn nothing of them?"

I saw that I had captivated both of their attention; it was strange to me to have people care what one's experiences were.

"I know nothing of my parents - they both died when when i was a small child. I can't really recall them at all."

Mr. Reddington sat back in his chair and took up studying the fire once more and Mrs. Caplin returned to her knitting.

"Well, you are unusual Miss Scott. You keep your own counsel and have no fear of saying your opinions. Even for someone so young. How old are you? Your quiet nature belies your youth." His green eyed gaze slid to my face then back to the fire.

"I am 19 sir."

He laughed unexpectedly but did not look at me.

"At 19 I fancied myself a proper country gentleman, hunting and fishing. I took great pride in my deportment." He laughed again. "Once I was on a hunt with Frederick Whitstone. What fools we were! We spent all our morning chasing what we thought was the neighborhood's prized fox. We had no horses, but thundered through the most remote brambles and thickets and finally after an exhausting day we cornered the poor creature. The whole time we were chasing Freddie's mother's old house cat. I can only say the we actually looked worse for wear than that house cat we'd chased all day." He chuckled at the memory and shook his head.

For a moment I was able to see the young man he'd been, happy, and yes, even handsome.

Just as soon as the ray of light appeared in his eyes, he was shuttered closed again. He looked to me as if he forgotten I was sitting there.

"Now Miss Scott, it's quite late. You should be going to bed." His voice seemed to forbid response but I managed to say good night and make my retreat, Mrs. Caplin behind me.

"Do not worry my child." Mrs Caplin said once we left the room. "He is as changeable as the weather."

“Do you think he approved of me?" I was unable to stop myself from asking the uppermost question on my mind.

"Of course. He would let you know if he did not. I think he did find you quite adequate." She smiled on me with such kindness and warmth that I felt a burst of gratitude. I could not say why their esteem mattered to me, as I was a stranger to them. But it was as if they were my own family, as I had none.

I slowly went up the steps to my chamber, feeling quite light with happiness. Mr. Reddington was a complex person to he sure but I never felt for one second any contempt for his employee.

Suddenly, from the attic floor I heard a guttural moan and a hasty slamming of doors. I approached the stair and Mrs. Caplin was behind me.

"Don't bother child. I will speak to Grace."

I obeyed the good woman - I could do little else. I was sure to turn my door lock.

But thoughts of Grace Poole were quickly banished. I considered Mr. Reddington's unusual conversation, turning it over in my mind until I fell quite asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their feedback. I do not own The Blacklist or Jane Eyre.

It is so often the case that when one has a want or need in one’s mind, the universe serves to thwart it. So it was when I desired to see Mr. Reddington again.

The master of Thornfield had a steady stream of visitors and businessmen from near and far; often he dined with them and the only time I had seen him was from a distance passing in the halls and I could see his ankle was doing well. I tried to quell my disappointment by focusing on my work and always taking my chilly midday walk, whether the sun shone or not. 

I was very pleased however, when Mrs. Caplin said I was to join him after dinner again. I eagerly changed my dress and tried to see something positive in the mirror. I wanted to appear vivacious or pretty but Quaker-neat would have to do.

“Come in Miss Scott” He greeted me genially. He indicated a chair opposite his by the fire. I pulled it back a little but he interrupted. “Sit where I placed it, please.”

“I am so about my business even in the country I don’t have often have time to enjoy company by the fire.” He seemed much less dark today. He smiled and it made his eyes sparkle. I thought decidedly he had too much wine.

“You seemed amused, Miss Scott. Please, do not keep this amusement to yourself.”

I said nothing but looked towards the fire. My cheeks felt warm with it.

“Well, your amusement serves me well, you are not scrutinizing me as you did the other evening. I do demand you speak though. I am looking for conversation this evening after talking business all day.” His bright eyes lit upon me but I still said nothing. 

If he expected me to perform and begin prattling to show off, he was mistaken. I sat firm in my silence.

“What’s this….I see. You are a little perturbed with me. Forgive my imperiousness. I have no wish to order you thus. I only claim superiority in my age and experience.”

Well, after such an apology I couldn’t hold much longer in not speaking.

“I can try and amuse you sir, but I would prefer if you ask me questions. It make it easier than holding forth on a topic.”

“Then let me ask this: do you agree that I have the right to be commanding or exacting, because of my age - old enough to be your father; and my experience of travelling the world and dealing with men of many nations?”

“You are free to do as you like.” He was my employer, after all.

“That does not answer my question but rather evades it.” He said quickly. He was stern, but I could see his eyes were still soft.

“I don’t think you have a right to command me because of your age or travels. It certainly depends on how you spent that time.”

“Hmmm. Alright, seeing that I did spend the time destructively then I do not have claim to superiority. I request that you then overlook my imperiousness. Will you?”

I smiled. He did indeed forget he paid me 30 pounds a year to take his orders.

“Again, your amusement. Why the smile?”

“I think very few employers would ask if their subordinates were forgiving of their master’s orders.”

“Hah, I had forgotten your pay. On that note, I can order you.”

“No sir. You can’t order me on the fact that you pay me, but rather you cared enough to inquire if a paid subordinate is comfortable in their dependency”

“And you will overlook, on these grounds, a lack of informality in our conversation, without thinking me rude.”

“I prefer informality and would never mistake it for rudeness.”

He sat back in his chair and murmured “Not one in 100 would respond as you did. But I won’t flatter you. Perhaps you have flaws yet unseen,”

Your flaws as well, I thought but did not say. He caught my expression instantly though.

“I do have flaws, Miss Scott. There are things….” He grew more sombre. “I envy your youth, the greenness of it, the fresh hopeful outlook before..” He looked toward the fire and the familiar gloom settled on him. 

“Fate wronged me and I have made choices that I regret.” He took a sip of his brandy but it did not revive him. “Guilt is a poison, Miss Scott.” 

“Then forgiveness will cure you, will it not?”

“It cannot be in this case. But I have a right to pleasure, in this life.” He said, almost ferociously.

“But would you not sink lower?”

“How can you say that when you no nothing of it. I will get it, sweet and fresh like spring on the moor.”

“Do not trust it sir. Remorse can be cured through redemption.”

He sat back again, looking into the fire. “A pilgrim has shown me the way to the shrine.”

I was uncertain of what we were speaking of and he grew silent.

“Sir, It is late, I should go..”

“You are afraid of me because you do not understand what I am talking about.” He challenged with a tinge of anger.

“I am not sir. I don’t wish to speak in riddles but I am not afraid.”

“If you did I would take it for gospel Miss Scott, since you are so serious and grave, Do you ever laugh? The schoolroom still shows on you somewhat, your restraint and quietness. But you are not naturally serious no more than I am naturally cruel.”

I rose, still unsure of this line of conversation, so filled with feeling. The clock struck nine.

“Go Miss Scott. Take your leave. I will tell you more about it...someday.”

“Good evening sir.” I left him there, his former brightness all gone to shadows. The truth was, I had no wish to go, even in my bewilderment. I was beginning to doubt my sensibilities where he was concerned.

 

:


	5. Chapter 5

Thoughts of my benefactor trailed through my mind on many days, even though I had little chance to encounter him.

One day on my walk, I did get an opportunity to hear his tale.

It was a fine day, though wintry. The blue arc of the sky was a bright flag as a weak pale yellow sun shone, illuminating the the undulating brown hills around Thornfield and the winter bare trees. Along the swells of the hillocks, one could see the very first tints of green growing things, if one looked with care.

"Miss Scott." He walked to the bench where I sat drawing the austere landscape with my pastel crayons.

"Hello sir." I began putting my things away to respond to whatever orders he had for me.

"Let me help you." We began placing the crayons in the tray from where they lay on the seat next to me and our fingertips brushed together.

I admit a tingle went over my scalp which I could scarcely credit. He had previously used me as a leaning post when he fell...but of course I did not know him then as I do now. I tried to look at him to read his face as his stooped over but he was looking at the tray and I could not see his expression.

"There. I hate to interrupt your sketching but I have a few moments and thought we could continue from the other evening."

I tied my portfolio together and stood up and for a moment we both paused as if unsure how to proceed. He began walking down the path away from the house and I followed.

"I mentioned my youthful adventures the other night, that I was less than my ideal person."

"Yes sir."

"'Yes sir'." He quoted me, smiling. "You have such an equilibrium - you don't feel worry about hearing untoward tales that might offend."

"Why should I sir? What offense could there be if you were unburdening yourself to a...to me." I was going to say friend but I caught myself. I was his dependent and employee, I reminded myself.

"What offense indeed." His voice was subdued, his eyes distant.

"I was young Miss Scott, and greener then you are now. I was little acquainted with the world but through pride I fancied myself quite the man." He laughed bitterly. "Quite the lover and champion."

Here we paused and he looked up towards Thornfield Hall.

"I used to despise this place." He cast his green gaze over the battlements, his mouth working over some difficult emotions, which ones I did not know.

"And now sir?" I asked gently. He looked to me briefly and a smile creased his face for a second.

"Now I am quite enjoying my time here unexpectedly. But back to my tale before I lose the courage."

I was surprised to hear this landed gentleman quote courage in speaking to me, his clerk, but I put that aside to consider later on my own and brought my attention to him.  
"When I was a youth I fell in love with a beautiful woman. She was as a painting of a madonna; red-gold hair, blue eyes and skin as fair as snow. To see her smile was to see the sun. And I loved her." He spoke this simply and quietly.

He paused and I did not prompt him. I was all quivering inside to hear about who he loved.

"But she was not free, Miss Scott, not by a long chalk. She was bound to another and I..." he was suffused with gloom, his eyes wet with regret. "I did not pay heed to conventions in this instance. I pursued her vigorously, so vigorously that her legal 'mate' became consumed with my destruction- and hers. Do you know jealousy - no, because you have not known love. I damned convention then as I do now. That is why there is no redemption for me." 

We once more paused on our walk and it was some time before he spoke again. I felt quite compelled to offer him some comfort but could not think of how to do so.

"What happened sir?" I finally asked.

"She died. And my obstinacy and insistence that we could be together was the cause. It was due to my brazen stupidity." He shook his head. "I was so young Miss Scott. So, a woman died due to me. Her family was hurt, torn apart, and I..." He shrugged. "You are too young to understand but I feel I need to tell you." He gave a slight shake of his head as if clearing it.

"I have consumed your morning with dark tales. Do you think me a villain or a monster?"

He faced me with his brilliant eyes and I shook my head.

"No sir. I just have sympathy for your sadness."

We stood looking at each other for a moment more then turned to the landscape once again.

"It is beautiful here, even though the wind and cold has left its scars."

"It will turn green again." I said quietly.

"I've kept you from your duties far too long Miss Scott. Off with you."

He dismissed me, but there was a smile in his aspect. I returned to the library but turned once to glance over my shoulder at him. He was staring over the hills, and whatever bitterness he still possessed, it was not in his demeanor.

And do you think me unnerved by his confession or put on my guard? Was I embarrassed by the topic or feared his damnation of convention? I was not, reader. His tale had only served to make him more dear in my eyes. Alas, my youth was as foolhardy as his has been.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

Now did I pine away wistfully on the moors for excitement or novelty? No, for my days were filled with happy contemplation of my new relationship with the Master of Thornfield. He was less my employer and more a relative to me now. When walking in the halls he often had a cheerful good day for me.

On occasion, I would join him in the drawing room, sharing my sketches with him while he told amusing stories about his travels and peoples he encountered. I was often quiet and felt no compulsion to attempt to be charming in turn. I felt completely and thoroughly myself at ease in his presence.

And now was he handsome to me? I found his countenance much improved just because of the sunniness I do frequently found there now. I looked upon his face with pleasure.

One night, after i blew my candle out and lay my head on my pillow, I drifted away thinking pleasant thoughts of my newly found family and fell to a deep sleep. Sometime late in the night I heard a moaning howl. It chilled my spine and I climbed out of bed in fear, ready to confront the terror.

A deep groaning moan echoed from further away and I crept towards the door. I opened it slowly but saw nothing as the whole of the passage was cast in darkness. I smelled a wisp of smoke and saw an orange glow down the hallway under the door to Mr. Reddington's room.

I rushed forward and into his room. He was in his bed, senseless from smoke. His bed curtains were ablaze and I grabbed the ewer of water from his dressing table doused one; with the basin I doused the other and him also in the process.

This and my demands that he wake up roused him.

"Am I drowning?" He muttered, looking about him.

"No sir, burning or nearly so. Please sir, the bed is burning."

He crawled out of bed, pulling the damp charred curtains to the floor.

"What witchery have you done, elf, conspired to burn me as I slept?"

"There is conspiracy sir, but not from me. I heard a strange moan...sir, Grace Poole..." I had no evidence, just my suspicion. "Should I get Mrs. Caplin and the servants?"  
"Why the deuce would you bother them. Let me investigate. I want you to stay here. Do not open the door, do not stir until I return. You're cold and your feet are wet."

He led me to a chair. He took his robe and wrapped it around my shoulders. He then grabbed his boots and hastily slipped them on.

"I will come back. Just wait here for my return, alright Elizabeth?"

I nodded in assent. He left, taking the door key and locking from the outside.

Despite the chill and my fear, I kept recalling my name on his lips.

He was so long gone the moon shone into the window panes and I grew drowsy. I awoke with a start when he opened the door.

"Sir, have you discovered the mystery?"

"Yes. Yes, it was just as suspected." He nodded but said no more.

"Are you relieving Miss Poole?"

"Not exactly, not exactly. But it's been addressed so there are no more worries." He said with strange cheeriness.

"But sir," i stood up, nearly stamping my foot in frustration. "Are you not concerned for your safety -or your comfort if nothing else? You barely missed a tragedy."

To this rather stern pronouncement he smiled, a warm and charming smile that quite stopped me.

"And you saved me, my good angel. I knew you would be a boon to me." He took my cold hands in his warm ones. His eyes sparkled strangely in the moonlight; some great emotion stirred him. His voice was warm as velvet.

"You should go and try to sleep." He said but did not release his grip on my hands.

"Well, good night sir." I said, suppressing a smile that threatened to break over my face.

"You're going?" He seemed surprised.

"You told me to go sir." I gently reminded him.

"But how should I thank you for saving me? Mere words seem insufficient." There was such fire in his gaze, and power in his voice it was hard to speak.

"I will shake your hand then sir." He did so, eyes never leaving mine.

"Thank you Elizabeth Scott, my cherished rescuer."

"Good night sir." I took my leave quickly then, my cheeks burning with some strange emotion.

When I went to bed again, the light of dawn started glowing but I closed my eyes. In my mind’s eye, across a wind-tossed ocean I saw a glimpse of a green and beautiful paradise. I was buoyed on an unquiet sea, towards that heavenly shore.


	7. Chapter 7

I rose later in the morning that usual and dressed with haste. It was not easy to keep Mr. Reddington from my thoughts. I recalled everything keenly, especially the flash of his eyes, the rumble of his voice...

In the hallway servants were cleaning up his room. I stopped to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Was a wonder he wasn't burnt up." Leah was telling the housemaid.

'He should always stop the candle before sleep." She asserted.

Leah became aware of me and and asked "Did you hear nothing Miss Scott?"

"No, nothing at all." I murmured and was on my way. I made it a point to ask Mr. Reddington about his fiction of the fire. I should enjoy chiding him for his lack of forthrightness.

But I did not see him at all that day and after my work was completed I met Mrs Caplin in the dining room.

"I am surprised you didn't hear anything about the fire. He doused it, so all is well." She began iterating the things that needed to be replaced in his room.  
I could wait to hear something of him no longer so I gently interrupted her.

"Is Mr. Reddington sleeping in a different room tonight?"

"Oh my dear, the master is not even here. He took off for Millcote early this morning.There is a party at the Leas and often these events go on for weeks."  
My food had turned to tasteless hay in my mouth but I asked.

"A party? With ladies?" I asked with as much feigned disinterest as I could gather.

"Oh yes, lots of grand folks. The Leas, the Eshtons and the Ingrams. Blanche and Mary Ingram among them. Blanche is a great beauty."

"How does she look?" I pushed my plate of food away and poured more tea. As I heard this tale, my heart was sinking.

"Oh she's very finely made, petite, with a great mass of golden curls and pink cheeks. She has a fine figure and glowing complexion. And she's quite accomplished too; shooting, riding and she can sing. "

"Have you heard her sing?"

"Oh yes, 5 or 6 years ago, when she was just twenty, Mr. Reddington had a party. He played piano - he's quite good - and she sang beautifully. She has a rich voice."  
"And this accomplished lady has no husband yet?"

"Well, her elder brother inherited most, so she and her sister have little fortune."

"But surely a gentleman, someone like Mr. Reddington say, might marry her?" As I asked the question most keenly burning in my heart, I held my breath to hear her answer.  
"Master? Well, they might be suited, but there is nearly 20 years between them. I don't know."

Mrs. Caplin seemed dubious. I reflected on how Mr. Reddington's scowls were fewer now and I had taken some credit for his lightness of spirit. A fool I was to believe his happiness would suddenly become mine. In truth, I felt a little faint.

"When is he likely to return?"

"I have no idea. He is so seldom at Thornfield. He's actually stayed much longer than usual. I would expect him to go onto London or Paris and not return for six months." Her causal delivery of this information forced me to control my face and voice but pained me so I pressed my hand against my abdomen as if I felt in physically inside my body.

I pushed even the tea away.

"I am sorry Mrs Caplin...I am not feeling quite well..."

"Oh then you must take a rest my child.. Please go and do so. I am certain work can wait on the morrow."

As I took the stair up, slowly like an invalid, Grace Poole passed me with a: "Good day miss." In her phlegmatic way.

So torn I was inside that I did not ponder her relaxed appearance on the staircase, but instead recalled in vivid detail last night, and Mr. Reddington firmly holding my hand between his.

Tear threatened to spill and I rushed to my room and closed the door behind me. I felt like a dupe, a fool. My master had shown kindness to his employee and she took it for something more; this was a critical error for someone in my station and could lead to nothing but despair.

It had led to despair, I admitted. To think of my master so far away... and gone for so long....

I dashed away my tears. I could not for my own sanity indulge this schoolgirl ridiculousness. Elizabeth Scott's difficult life had made her hearty and strong, not beautiful or graceful.

I took two sheet of sketching paper and laid them side by side. I chose the clearest brightest pencils I had and created a portrait of a beautiful blonde angel, with a coquette's eyes and a lady's fine expression. She was regal on her finery and this portrait I named 'Blanche, an accomplished lady'.

The other portrait was faded rather than bright. A serious and solemn gaze stared out of this strong pale face with the Quaker neat hair. This portrait was of 'Miss Scott, a penniless orphan clerk."

I laid them besides and queried myself, "Who is the more suitable mate for the master of Thornfield?"

The question did not need answering. I turned my portrait over and retreated from the table.

I did feel sick, heartsick, as I thought of his bride and his absence. I feared never seeing him again.


	8. Chapter 8

Several weeks passed and I worked, talked to Mrs. Caplin and took my strolls around Thornfield Hall. Despite the slowly greening landscape, I was quite cold inside. I felt foolish, like a child who had believed a fairy tale, and once the truth was out, could not be consoled. I sketched far away places and rewrote advertisements for new positions in my mind. But I could not move on without seeing him again. 

Quite unexpectedly, I would have the chance to do so again. One bright if cold morning, Mrs. Caplin rushed into the library And told me that Mr. Reddington was returning and not alone.

Curiosity quelled my fears and I asked her eagerly to tell me all the news.

"He intends to bring his whole party, the Ingrams, the Eshtons oh and the Dents. Oh my there is much preparation ahead." She began writing briskly on a piece of paper a list of tasks.

This news lifted my heart so I was almost gay, running from room to room with the maids, turning mattresses and sweeping rugs. Every inch of the hall was scrubbed and freshened. Even Grace Poole showed herself, taking curtains for washing. This three days of gaiety and bustle gave way to caution only at the last moment.

What if Mr. Reddington intended to introduce his bride, Miss Ingram? It was with this strange numbing fear I observed the arrival of the party; there were riders and carriages, which I assumed held the ladies.

I soon saw, from my vantage point at the first floor gallery window that there was one lady riding. She wore a plum coloured riding habit and she rode a chestnut mare, next to Mr. Reddington’s great black horse Mesrour. He was an excellent horseman and she was his equal, riding smoothly over the muddy ruts of the road, a purple veil trailing behind her. She was blonde with pink cheeks. Even from here I could see her smile flashing. I looked back to my master but could only see the crown of his hat as he looked down at his companion. I pulled back from the window instinctively though it was unlikely that they would even look up.

I remained in the library with the door ajar, hearing the crowd enter with a great stamping of boots.The musical voices of the women filled the hall, counterpoint to the men's basso. I could not make out his voice in the din. I slowly shut the door and turned to my work. As someone in service, I had no promise of a gay party. With determination, I turned to the simple work I was hired to door and tried to block out all else.

I had been laboring over my tasks for sometime and it was not until late that Mrs. Caplin came to me and advised I would be required in the drawing room after dinner.  
“Surely not, Mrs. Caplin,” I exclaimed. I was not equal to the members of the party.

“Well, I did advise Master that perhaps you would perhaps not be comfortable with this request and he fully and emphatically insisted you attend. I could scarcely put him off the idea.” She was perturbed on my behalf. I realized how much she looked after me, almost as a daughter.

“I will go then, though surely I my clothes will not suit.” 

“I will give you a shawl and brooch - wear your black silk - and go into the drawing room before they leave dinner. Then there is no question of entry, that is the hardest” She advised.  
I squeezed her hand gratefully and made haste to get ready.

I slipped into the drawing room and fetched a dark corner seat before the ladies entered, bringing a piece of embroidery I had been working to occupy my hands. 

First came the Lady Ingram and her daughters, She was somewhat full with the same blonde hair as her daughters with a haughty demeanor. Blanche and Mary Ingram came next - they appeared similar, both dressed in dazzling ivory silk, but Mary was more tender looking - Blanche was surely the beauty. Her pink cheeks and rosy lips set off her golden froth of curls and her small waist was accentuated with a crimson sash. 

After them, there was Mrs. Eshton and two of her daughters. The older, Amy, was rather little and child-like, wearing a blue dress.. Her sister Louisa taller was with a very pretty face.

Lady Lynn and Mrs. Dent came last of the ladies, the former rather stout and showy, the latter more demure.

“Who is that?” I heard Blanche whisper to her mother, though loudly enough for me to hear. “Some poor relation?” Her sweet mouth curled satirically.

“Must be some charity, my beauty.” Mrs. Eshton peered narrowly through her pince nez at me. “But do not bother, the men arrive.” 

Their airy dresses floated as they moved to make room for the men, and appeared like balloons being pushed about by the wind. 

The men, all wearing black, made a more imposing entrance than the ladies. Henry and Frederick Lynn were tall and energetic; and Colonel Dent was a somewhat stiff military man. Mr. Eshton was gentlemanly and young Lord Ingram, like his sisters, a blonde, but taller. He shared Mary’s languid appearance, not Blanche’s fire. And Mr. Reddington?

I was not looking at him, instead, I was staring at the meaningless tangle of embroidery thread in my hands. But I could not control myself despite my will to keep still and quiet. I looked to where he is standing and my mind went back to when last I saw him, in his bedroom, my hands pressed between his, and his flashing eyes and soft rumble of his voice. How close we were then and now... all the years and class and custom between us. He was not looking at me, but smiling and gay, speaking with the ladies so I was free to observe his closely cut hair, his green eyes, his vibrant and talkative mouth.

I glanced over the other men; dull, dreary, common and unoriginal and returned again to gaze upon my master. I saw how the ladies looked at him - their hearts didn’t quicken, their tones betrayed no adoration. He was not to them what he is to me. I loved him, I loved him and a sharp dagger of agony pierced me, because I knew that he had imprisoned me in a way that I could never be freed. I loved him and he didn’t even look at me.

They grew merry and he made the rounds to his guests, looking often to Blanche who seemed his companion for the evening.

“Will you play for me, Raymond?” She tapped him lightly with her fan and he turned to her smiling.

“Of course, Blanche if you command it,” 

“I do command it. Play on!” He went to the piano and I leaned forward intrigued. I had never heard him play. 

He began playing a soft and tender song I did not know, skillfully, his eyes apparently closed and Blanche began singing, Her voice was beautiful and words were of lost loves. I felt strange, almost floating as I heard her rich voice sing these words of love, directed to him. When it was finished, she joined him with a laugh on the piano bench and said she claimed her lover. The gathered audience could now chat again and they did so volubly. I seized the moment to leave; I could bear it no longer.

As I slipped out the back door I found my slipper lace had become undone. I paused to tie it as I mounted the staircase and looked up as a shadow fell over me. It was Mr. Reddington.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I am well sir.” I countered evenly.

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me inside?” He demanded in his brusque way.

“You were...busy and I didn’t wish to disturb you.”

“Did you take ill that night you nearly drowned me?”

“No sir.” I could scarcely venture more.

“You’re leaving too early. Come back in.”

“Sir, I am tired.” I caught my breath; he was looking at me with concern.

“Tired and depressed. What about? It’s something, because I see a tear shimmering in you eye and it will fall onto your cheek any moment If there weren’t so many people around I would find out why. But in any case, I expect you in the drawing room every night my guests are here. Do not let me down. Goodnight my…” He pressed his lips together and turned abruptly saying no more. Then he left me.


	9. Chapter 9

All the days were now merry at Thornfield. Music and games filled the house though I was more observer than participant. Throughout the merriment, I could see how Blanche's head dipped towards Mr. Reddington's shoulder, her capricious smiles and her wit with a piercing remark. They seemed the couple of the moment.

I also could see how he observed her, with a warm smile but cool eye. He watched her closely as I did. Her smiles and bon mots were grand but they did not touch him. Her attempts at charming him were numerous but fell flat. I knew my master; and I knew that she did not reach his heart.

And what did I think of him now reader, knowing that he may marry this woman? He never struck me as parochial but what did I know of people of that class? Their whole existence is bound by conventions from childhood. I knew I wouldn't wish such a marriage for myself but the world does not adhere to my beliefs.

Despite these facts, a steely pain had settled in my bosom as I thought of parting from him. Each breath brought renewal of that pain but I would savor every moment I was in his presence as I knew time was growing short. It seemed an engagement was forthcoming.

These dark reflections were on my mind as Mr. Reddington rode into town one afternoon, leaving his guests to their self-amusement. Their languid tea was interrupted by a visitor.

Sam the footman showed him in; he was a gentleman of my master's age but without his presence or personality - nice looking but dull. He was introduced as a Mr. Mason who had some business with Mr. Reddington. The ladies crowded around to give their soft interrogation and make their pleasantries over tea. 

Presently Sam returned and spoke to Colonel Dent, low.

"Apparently there is a gypsy woman to give fortunes." He announced hesitantly to the shrieks of the young women.

"Tell her to go hang or we will put her in the stocks. " Lord Ingram sneered but the women erupted again.

"Please let us see her mama!" Mary implored her mother, who frowned through her glasses.

"Alright, alright my child-"

"She'll only see the single ladies, ma'am." Sam advised.

"I'll go and see what kind of creature she is." Blanche said with a toss of her golden curls.

"Take care beloved." Her mother warned but Blanche followed Sam without another word.

When she returned sometime after, her face was looked like a thundercloud and she swept her skirts passed her sister and threw herself on a sofa sulkily.

"How was it Blanche?" Mary asked, wide-eyed. She was met with a shrug.

"Come with us Mary, we'll go together." Amy implored and she took Mary and her sister along.

After some time the three young ladies returned, giggling and snickering.

"She knew all about us! She was quite expert! " Mary exclaimed happily.

Sam came to me and bowed.

"Sorry miss, the gypsy says there is one single young lady left and she will not leave without seeing you.”

I left my embroidery and followed him to the second parlor, which was lit only with a fire.

The old gypsy had grey locks peeking out from her scarf and her face was marked with soot, wooden pipe jutting between her lips . She sat in the shadows so it was hard to make out her eyes.

"Sit daughter." She urged in a scratchy wheezing voice, her rag bound hands indicating the hearth.

I sat and the fire illumined my face.

"You wish your fortune told?" She crawed.

"You may tell it but I have no trust in you." I spoke earnestly.

She laughed and said."You are very near to a happiness at hand if you wished to take it."

I had no tolerance for riddles and said so.

"Plainer speech demands payment."

I gave her a shilling and sat back.

"Now what do you think of all the figures gathered in this house. ..is there one you think of beyond the others?"

"Not really. " i shrugged. "They all speak of the same things, chiefly courtship and marriage. It's monotonous."

"And what of the master, what do you think of him?"

"He is not at home right now. "

"What an elusive answer...very interesting. What do you think of his match? "

"I did not pay to hear someone else's fortune. " I chided her.

"Hmmph. Very well. Despite your pertness, you have the promise of happiness - but you do not seem aware of it. Your eyes show your will. It masquerades as gentleness but it is pure quiet strength. And you are a moral person. ..not given to cruelty or caprice. You take care to be respectful but never blindly. And your mouth...it is solemn because of a dearth of joy. You are not naturally so. Happiness can be..."

The gypsy fell suddenly silent and leaned back into the shadows. A strange feeling prickled over my shoulders at these curious pronouncements and I was glad I guarded my feelings.

"I made a promise to myself to control...enough." The gypsy arose as her voice changed and throwing off the disguise was my master.

"Mr. Reddington!" I exclaimed. I suspected some subterfuge but not by him.

"Did I fool you Miss Scott, were you convinced?" He began wiping the soot from his cheeks and divesting of his ragged costume.

"I don't know sir. It just seemed odd. You did not act a gypsy with me."

"And the others, what did they think? Tell me all." He unwrapped the rags on his fingers, a smile playing about his lips

"They were fooled, I think but also taken with your visitor."

"Visitor?" His unwinding slowed as his eyes met mine.

"Yes, he came,when you left, a Mr. Mason."

If I had struck him I could not evince a more powerful reaction. He staggered, reaching out to me blindly, and his hand found my shoulder, gripping it almost painfully.

"Mason." He hissed, his face ashen, his eyes looking at nothing.

"Mason." He said again, pulling me to him in a stiff and hasty embrace and just as suddenly pushing me back. He turned, shaking his head, and bit his lip.

"Sir, is there something I can do?" I implored. I have never before seen fear on his face.

"Yes my girl. Go into the drawing room and fetch me a glass of port and observe the guests. Tell me how their faces appear." He said quietly, looking into the fire.

I fled the room in urgency and entered the party. They seemed lively as ever, though Blanche sneered when I poured the wine. Perhaps she thought I didn't know my place but I did not care.

I returned as quickly as I could and Mr. Reddington drank the wine all at once. He gasped and wiped is mouth with his hand.

"How do they look, Elizabeth?"

"As normal sir, no different." I assured him.

"What if they came and cursed me? "

"I would turn then away."

"If they came to attack me?"

"I would bar the door sir."

He gave a bitter smile.

"And if they assailed you for helping me?"

"I would not care sir. They are nothing to me."

"And if I had done something Elizabeth...something that changed your opinion of me?"

"Sir, I hold you in too high esteem. " I said softly. To my surprise, his eyes were wet. "What can I do sir?"

"Tell Mason to meet me here. I will deal with him now." He shuddered suddenly and seemed to have collected himself in an instant.

His voice was cold. I looked back once as I crossed the room and his eyes, gazing into the flames had no more life than glittering stones. There was a distinct chill in his presence. I shivered and fled down the passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting. Writing this is a real pleasure - getting to mix my favorite fictional romance with my current ship and the feedback is the icing on the cake.


	10. Chapter 10

Reader, I was afraid - mostly for Mr. Mason's safety. I had often sensed power in Mr. Reddington but not violence. But once in my bed I heard Mr. Reddington speaking to him quite genially, and indicating his bedroom. So relieved was I sleep came quickly.

Much later, when the moon was high, I began to hear creaking and thumping above me from the upper floor. I sat up, listening to the muffled sounds.

"Help, help!" Came a terrible cry and I leaped out of bed and went to the door, opening it slightly. 

The guests had come into the hall and were demanding answers. There was naught but moonlight in the passage and they looked like a flock of irritable ghosts in their white nightclothes.

Mr. Reddington arrived, candle in hand, and began soothing them with a laugh.

"Some poor servant has gone quite off and is insisting she had seen a ghost, poor thing. She is being looked after now so please return to your rooms."

"Are you not sure it's robbers?" Lady Ingram demanded.

"My lady even robbers could not steal the greatest treasure which is your beauty. " He took her hand and kissed it.

Titters erupted from the youngest girls and Lady Ingram shooed him away with a laugh.

"Goodnight everyone." He addressed them all as they began returning to their rooms, almost herding them like sheep with his arms.

They finally quit the passage with more giggles and whispers and he watched them go. He left and I closed the door as he passed.

I did not take too my bed, as I knew from the noises I had heard, this was no mere servant's fright.

I kept my watch to understand what occurred, leaving my door slightly open and my room dark. I hastily changed from my nightgown into my clothes.

I sat still so long I was chilled and thinking of my warm bed when to my surprise Mr. Reddington and Mrs. Caplin mounted the stair of the upper floor. I listened as well as I could but heard naught but slight movements overhead.

Still, I waited, and not long my master came down in a rush, though with soft feet. I watched him go to the downstairs and after that, I heard the distant sound of hoof beats on the moor.

I dozed at my window and found my master had returned and there was a carriage waiting by. The first slivers of light lanced across the hills as he made haste.

He was in again and shortly he and Mrs. Caplin were helping an ashen Mr. Mason to the waiting carriage. The carriage turned and went flying over the road.

Mrs. Caplin wearily turned and began walking to the house but my master turned to the garden, which was frosted silver in the early dawn.

I finally withdrew from the window and pondered this strange scene. What had happened to Mr. Mason? As I dressed, I meant to confront my master. Had Grace Poole done this? Had he?

I dressed quickly and went down to the garden, where my master was pacing slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Good morning master," I ventured, watching his face. His eyes were weary, his cheeks drawn. He smiled faintly when he saw me.

"You're awake early Miss Scott," He approached me slowly.

"Master, I did not sleep. What happened to Mr, Mason?" I spoke low but insistent.

I was met with a sigh, He looked across the landscape then down to the ground, where he troubled a stone with his boot.

"Mr. Mason is alright, he is being taken to the surgeon." He said simply but made no further explanation.

"Mr. Reddington, what happened to him?" I demanded again, fists clenched. 

"Mr. Mason is a danger to me, but that has been averted for the moment. He is being well taken care of and is going far away." 

"You should explain how he endangers you, advise him to be cautious -"I began but he laughed bitterly.

"He won't knowingly harm me; I can't just advise him to take care. It is in my interest to keep him as ignorant as possible." He pressed his lips together for we both knew he was keeping me ignorant as well.

"You are my friend are you not, Elizabeth?"

I looked into his green eyes, so intense and penetrating. He took up my hand and began stroking my palm.

"Of course sir. I like to serve you in all the ways that are right." I said softly.

"All the ways that are right - this I can see. If I were to ask you to do something that was wrong, your quiet smile would go away - you would be serious and firm and say it could not be. You too have power over me." 

"You have nothing to fear from me sir."

He gave a short barking laugh and shook his head, dropping my hand abruptly.

"Come, let us sit on this bench, There is room for two." He indicated the arbor and began walking. I followed him, unsure of what else to do while he was in this strange pensive state.

"Imagine you are a young man, with life before you, and you make a fateful choice - a necessary choice - but one that binds you to a past that reminds you of your youthful folly. This past is always present, eating up your hope, your happiness...but then, a stranger comes with the promise of redemption. You are hopeful again, you feel joy again. But -" His lips pressed together and he sighed before continuing. "But - your past would threaten your sinner's reformation. You cannot escape it. And I have found my redemption in..." He paused, and we heard the birds in their morning song. They went on singing and still my master did not continue. I looked up at his face, which was blank and cold.

"Have you noticed my interest in Miss Ingram? If we married she would certainly energetically redeem me, no?" He said with sarcasm. "If I am to be married, I would need someone to stay up with me and keep me company before my wedding. Would you do that Elizabeth?"

"Yes sir." I could say little about this bitter news. We then heard the voices of his guests somewhere in the garden.

"There are the gentleman by the stables. Go through the shrubbery." He ordered as he went to meet them. I made my discreet way back to the house and I heard him say with false cheeriness:

"Mason's gone off this morning already. Shall we look in at the horses?"


	11. Chapter 11

The bright spring sun shone over Thornfield Hall, chasing all shadows from the manse's dark corners. The days were pleasant and the nights cool. No internal disturbances interrupted Mr. Reddington's party but an external one certainly disrupted me.

I received a letter from the daughters of my Aunt Reed, the relative who had pushed me away from her home and into the cold meanness of the charity school when I was a child. A stroke had fallen the woman and she'd been asking about me so continually her daughters relented and wrote to me.

My memories of her home were unpleasant. I was an unwanted interloper. Her children were cruel and as a child of a deceased distant cousin I was merely a burden. Though they were quite rich they could spare naught for me. However, the woman was dying. I decided to go - if to close the chapter if nothing else.

This necessitated approaching my master in the midst of his guests. Letter in hand, I gathered my courage to address him where he and his companions were involved in a lively game of billiards. He was gently directing Miss Ingram's cue when I caught his eye.

"That person seems to want you for something." Blanche said him poutily, her perfect mouth curled in distaste.

"Come Miss Scott ." He immediately retreated from the table and brought me into the side parlor. He shut the door and leaned against it

"Yes, Elizabeth?"

"I need to take a leave sir-" I began but he said in a demanding tone:

"What for?"

"My aunt is dying sir...and she wishes to see me before it's too late."

He seemed to pale slightly and breathed, leaning heavily on the door

"The same aunt that disowned you? Why on earth would you pay someone so unworthy any mind at all?" He rejoined.

"Yes sir...but she is dying and is asking for me."

His lips compressed in a line before, he spoke.

"People who are near death often say peculiar things....even fabricate things to ease their conscience. If cruel she was, I am sure she tell only lies. I really don't think it's wise of you to go."

"I won't say no to a dying woman. I am sure you are correct sir but I do need your aid. I haven't had any salary as of yet."

"How much do you have now?"

"Just 5 shillings sir."

He laughed suddenly as if this small amount amused him immensely.

"Here is 50 pounds. You can have it upon the vow you will only stay one week. "

"I cannot promise that sir. Also you but owe me 15."

"True, here is 10 then. " He took back the 50 and presented me with a 10.

"But now you still owe me 5." I smiled.

"You'll have to return for it. In one week Elizabeth."

"I will not promise." I put the 10 pound note behind my back.

"You'll probably stay longer...give me back that note. I should have given you 1 pound so you can't tarry." He said with humorous pomposity.

"It is too late sir." I beamed, enjoying my victory. "But I have an additional request, since my employment is the topic."

He nodded expectantly.

"You have informed me that you are soon to be wed so... I would say that I need to find another situation." It was hard to speak this aloud and I did not look at him directly.

He pursed his lips and nodded.

"Just so Elizabeth...but that is in due time. Promise to let me find you a situation. Do not let these lately meddlesome relations assist you." He implored me.

"No indeed. I will let you do so sir."

"Good, good." He murmured absently "Since you're going, how does one say goodbye?"

"I think the proper term is 'farewell'."

"'Farewell.' That's seems rather dry. It doesn't suit me. Is there something else one might do?"

"We might shake hands. sir." I ventured, wondering when he would move away from the door so I could begin packing.

"That's will not suffice either. It's far too mean. I would like to add to this ceremony .."

The dinner bell rang out and he went out the door with a nod.

I had no cause to see him again and I started my journey early.

After some 100 miles over two days travel I was met by Bessie the old housekeeper. She was stouter and grayer but remembered me.

"Oh Miss, you look so well and fair." She had my bag taken in.

"How is Mrs. Reed?"

"Well, she is in and out. She took ill suddenly and doesn't have strength on one side of her body. It does not go well, miss. "

I wondered if the lady would apologize to me for the ill treatment I suffered. That her daughters chose not to greet me didn't bode well.

I went up to the sick room and neither were there. My aunt lay in candlelight, her face drawn to one side. Despite her infirmity she looked as imperious as ever.

Hey eyes opened and she emitted a grunt. I attempted to aid her in getting seated but she slipped down again eyes closed. It was strange to be so near after a gulf of years but my youthful hate had burned out, especially since brighter things had emerged my in my previously cloistered world.

I stood vigil that night and in the morning Georgiana and Eliza had deigned to greet me at breakfast.

They little remarked on the elapsed years between our last meeting but instead bemoaned their situation: their fortunes gone and their mamma on the verge of passing they were beside themselves with what to do.

Their life of idleness left them ill suited to any occupation and plump fair Georgiana was destined to marry someone whose finances were not up to what she was used to. Eliza, narrow and dour, planned to secret herself to a convent.

Listening to their self-absorbed lamentations I was ever grateful for my brain and my skills. I had no husband and no religiosity to rely on.

"Poor Mama, " Georgiana moaned. "I do not know what will happen." She sighed yet again, twisting her fingers in her shawl.

I suppose they deserved a measure of pity since I could clearly see how my life of hardship benefited me. It was in this spirit I was able to attend to my aunt.

I sat by her daily, reading such paltry books as they had to pass the time. I gave her water and gruel but she did not speak until days later.

I had dozed in my chair as the late afternoon rays played on the wallpaper, nodding my head down towards the inconsequential romance opened in my lap.

When first I heard the croaking sounds of her voice I thought I had fallen asleep by the pond at Thornfield and was visited by bullfrogs.

"Aunt Reed." I exclaimed, grasping her hand which was feverish. She pulled it back.

"Elizabeth Scott." She slurred. Only one of her brown eyes fixed on me. The other was still covered by her ashen lid. "Elizabeth Scott." She repeated.

"Yes, Aunt, it is Elizabeth. Georgiana and Eliza wrote to me."

"I've always hated that child. She was so crafty and quiet. You always knew she was up to tricks." She slurred to me. I did not know if she knew me at all.

"I knew she was no kin of mine. No kin of mine." Her voice rose in a blurred rage and she fell back sweating.

I took Mr. Reddington's advice to ignore her ravings. Perhaps the only reason she wanted to see me was disown any relationship before she passed, as if I could claim a share of her wealth.

She fell silent again, her mouth working soundlessly. She never spoke again.

After a week of nursing her, following the surgeon's advice, she passed. Her hapless daughters clung to me so I made the funeral arrangements as well.

As a child they had shoved and pushed me and as adults their hands sought me as if I was their nanny. One week of this was enough to generate a departure as quick as possible.

And was I hurt by my aunt's pronouncements? Whatever blood was between us I knew my home was not here. I longed to return to the only home I ever knew. As I packed for my return, the spectre of leaving it again, permanently, rose up to chill my heart. So suddenly did tears come I could not control them. I sobbed into my hands until exhaustion overtook me. I slept without any dreams, with no past and no future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the feedback. I am very grateful for all the readers. And it's quite exciting to know that some of my favorite Blacklist fanfic writers are reading this. Lizzington Lives!


	12. Chapter 12

My trip back to Thornfield was a long and lonely one. For company I had Mrs. Caplin's letter which I had received two weeks prior. In the letter she described how Mr. Reddington had gone to London after the breakup of the party to purchase a new carriage. 'For my bride', he told her. I looked over this letter many times as my coach passed over empty byways. I was going home but I knew would not be my home much longer.

When the coach finally reached Milcote let my luggage go on ahead. I wanted to take on the whole vista - so the last of my journey would be on foot.

It was a lazy summer afternoon, clouds had prevented the day from being too hot and a breeze rolled over the fields of grass.I saw distant laborers making their hay stacks, their faint shadows long across the hills. Verdant leaves decorated all the trees near the lane, and they stirred in greeting to me.

I paused, savoring the view of Thornfield when I finally made the last hillock. The gardens were all green, dotted with blooms of all colors. The battlements did not look so forbidding now. I thought with pleasure of seeing Mrs. Caplin and even Leah again but looking inward I elicited my true thoughts... I was thinking of someone else.

What is more obstinate than youthful inexperience? Despite all practical reasons that loving Mr. Reddington was an endeavor that could only end in pain, my heart persisted. It made me hasten onward, for the days and moments that I would share with him were coming to an end.

I approached the garden, full of the scent of blooming roses and he was there, by the gate, marking in a small book. I did not know what would happen when I saw him again but I found no words to meet the moment, my only thought was of my pounding heart. I looked to escape my voiceless embarrassment, but he already saw me.

"Hello there, come in." He said with a polite gesture, opening the gate for me.

I could barely control my movements and face; I don't know how I managed to walk forward. I feared betraying any inner thoughts that might humiliate me.

"And you walked from Milcote? This is how faeries travel, arriving secretly by the wood instead of by the coach everyone expects. And where have you been for nearly a month?"

"With my aunt, sir. She is dead."

"An elfin reply to be sure. You come from the house of the spirits. If I dared touch you, you would vanish like smoke, I am certain. You have been away from home and you have completely forgotten me!"

I knew I would be happy to see him again but the his greeting warmed me like the rays of the sun, moreso since he spoke of Thornfield as my home.

"Now take your weary feet inside Beth and rest." He gestured towards the house with a smile, a bright beam that he seemed to use on the rarest occasions.

I need only go inside reader but some force stuck me to the spot and I burst out, quite beyond my control.

"Wherever you are Mr. Reddington, that is my home." I walked passed him blindly as fast as I could towards the house, so quickly he would need to run to overtake me.

That evening, as I sat by the fire with Mrs. Caplin, cup of tea in hand, Pilot by our feet, I was in a golden bubble of domesticity. I refused to listen to the warnings of the terrible separation to come. I even fancied an idea that after his marriage he could somehow keep me in situation somewhere, so we would not be permanently severed.

It was strange that over the next two weeks there was no shuttling back and forth to his intended's abode and making of plans. Mrs. Caplin inquired and she said he answered her with a laugh and quizzical remark.

I began to hope that something had happened to interrupt their union but no thunderclouds darkened my master's visage. He seemed unusually light-hearted. Never had he called me to his company so frequently and of course, never had I loved him so much.


	13. Chapter 13

A glorious season came over Thornfield -the blue sky, set with the jewel of a late summer sun that cast illumination over all, the verdant and lush trees, the green patchwork of hay fields and the flames of color filling the garden rows. It was if a southern summer had come north to gild a grey England.

It was now the most beautiful moment of the day; the sun just slipped passed the rim and the western sky was painted with streaks of flame; the eastern sky a deep azure speckled with faint starlight. A cooling breeze brought the lush blossoms' fragrance to me where I walked in the shaded arbors. Soon, another familiar perfume made itself known - Mr Reddington's cigar.

He must have been quite nearby. I did not want to be in the garden alone with him in the starlight though I could not explain why. I stood still in my bower to let him pass unknown but the garden was attractive to him as it was to me and he paused, looking at the gooseberries, admiring the roses, looking among the blossoms and leaves. I waited still, planning to step along the grass silently after he passed.

"Come Beth, look at this moth." I did not know how he was aware of me but I now stepped forward, unable to think of an excuse to quit the garden. "Ah he is gone."

I was embarrassed by thinking there was some evil in lingering in the garden with him. His face was composed, even gentle. The source of misgivings must be me.

He commenced strolling and I was obliged to keep in step.

"This garden is lovely, isn't it?"

"Indeed sir." I murmured.

"You have found a home here...a friend in Mrs. Caplin and occupation, yes."

I nodded assent.

"It's a pity that you have to go."

"Must I sir?"

"Yes, I am afraid so my...Miss Scott. I am soon to be married." He said softy, bowing to a bloom. "I can tell you are quite attached. Are you looking after more moths?" He asked as I turned my head away, hiding my expression.

"You've been such a devoted and skillful employee I will be very happy to assist you in your new situation."

"Thank you sir, there is no need..." I took a steadying breath.

"Not at all. I have have found a situation for you in Ireland, clerking for a private library."

"It's far away."

"Oh a sensible girl like you wont object to the travel."

"Its not the travel sir. Its so far from England...and Thornfield and...you."

At this moment tears began falling from my eyes, trailing coolly and silently down my cheeks.

"Come let us sit together under the chestnut tree and enjoy this time, recall all the pleasant moments of our friendship."

Heart like a stone, I followed him to the bench and sat next to him.

"Sometimes...sometimes I get this strange feeling Beth, that we are connected by a golden strand...and if it broke, I should fall ill. I feel so now...But you will forget me. Listen, do you hear that bird?" A nightingale launched into its evensong

"I never will forget you." I could no longer keep weeping silently; my body shook with emotion.

"You are sad to leave." He said, his voice gruff.

"I love this place. I have been cared for and respected here. I've not been tormented or condemned to keep the company of dullards. I have had the pleasure of knowing a unique and scintillating mind...and the idea of leaving it...and you sir, has caused me an agony that I didn't know I could feel."

"Why do you have to leave?" He asked abruptly.

"Because you are getting married sir!" Once more,my tears gushed out.

"I am, I am." he said determinedly.

"Then I cannot stay." I cried, rising.

"You will, you must." He rose as well, his eyes boring into me.

"Do you think because I am a poor orphan with no money and attachments that I can endure this? Do you think that I have no soul and no heart and can be forced to live with a situation that injures me?" My voice rose with my feeling. "If I was beautiful and rich it would be just as hard for you to leave me. I tear away convention and custom and claim, before God, I am your equal. You cannot compel me."

"My equal, just so." He exclaimed and gathered me in his arms, pressing his lips to mine.

"Not so, sir. You are as wed." I pushed him back, breathless. "Or soon to be, to a woman you do not love or respect. I decry this kind of empty marriage. Let me go!"

"Elizabeth, do not struggle so like a wild creature-"

"I am no animal in a cage. I have free will" I released myself from his arms.

"Then let your will chose. I offer you my hand and heart and half of my goods in partnership."

"You're making fools of us both with nonsense."

"Beth, you're upset now, please sit so we can understand one another. Come here."

"I am separated from you. I cannot return."

"I summon you as my wife." He said quietly.

I said nothing. I thought he was playing out a farce.

"Come to me."

"I cannot, your wife is between us."

"There is no wife save you. You are my equal and my friend. It is you I wish to marry." He once again encircled me in his arms.

"You wish to marry me? " I questioned in disbelief.

"What can convince you? I shall prove myself."

I rested in his strong embrace but said nothing.

"Do you think I am false?" He whispered, his voice sending shivers across my back.

"Completely."

"Do you doubt me?" He murmured close to my ear.

"Of course sir."

"I will change your mind. Now consider, what love do I have for Miss Ingram? None. I let it be known discreetly that my fortune was not a third of supposed. Very suddenly Miss Ingram's flirtations ceased. I could never marry someone like that. And you, my poor plain orphan? I love you as my own kin. I ask you to be my wife." His green eyes were flashing with passion and fire. I was beginning to believe him.

"Do you really want to marry me? " I asked him gently.

"You torment me Elizabeth . Tell me now you will accept me." He enclosed me and whispered to my deepest ear.

"I will marry you sir."

"Give me my name, say Raymond." He demanded.

"I will marry you, Raymond."

He kissed me, softly, holding me as I trembled in his arms.

"My darling. It will redeem, it will redeem. Nothing will keep us apart." He hugged me forcefully.

"I have no family to meddle, that is the best."

"Yes, yes," He murmured, kissing my cheek, my temple, and lips again. "I defy the universe to keep us separate. Surely this was meant to be. Are you happy, my Beth?"

"I am, sir, I am" I repeated.

We stood thus for some time, embraced as we were. Suddenly, the sky darkened to black, obscuring the purple veil of sky and rumbles of thunder rolled over the hay fields. The leaves in the garden trembled and then rain poured down upon us.

We ran for the door, getting soaked.

In the hall he said good night, kissing me again and again.

"Take off your wet things my darling, don't catch cold." He advised.

As I mounted the the step, I saw Mrs. Caplin standing at the top of the stairs. Her face was darkly grim, her mouth set in a thin line. I felt ashamed that she could even misunderstand what she witnessed. I could not enlighten her at the moment - tomorrow all would be explained. I bid her a hasty good night.


	14. Chapter 14

I woke up with bright sun streaming in the casement, all traces of last night's storm passed. I touched my cheek. Was I dreaming? I dreamed my master had asked me to become his wife.

I looked on the mirror. Where was the plain, serious girl? My cheeks were rosy, my eyes bright. I smoothed my hair and put on a light summer dress. I never looked so pretty.

Breakfast was a strange affair. Mrs. Caplin's usually unperturbed face was stormy. I fear her heretofore unseen anger and hoped Mr. Reddington would speak to her soon.

Leah came in to say he wanted to see be in the drawing room, I threw down my napkin quickly, so eager was I to escape the oppressive silence. I went there and found my master sitting reading a book.

“Is this my plain Quaker clerk!” He exclaimed with a beatific smile, setting aside his tome. 

“The very same sir.” I smiled, cheeks warm, He rose and embraced and kissed me. How natural it seemed when all pretenses were stripped away.

“Very sunny my lovely Miss Scott is this morning. “ He gestured, indicating I should sit.

“I need to ask you something sir.” I began straightaway. 

He pursed his lips, eyes opaque.

“Sometimes questions are best left unanswered. I won’t promise to elucidate if I feel it’s not beneficial.” He said in a stilted manner. 

“Well, I will ask. Why did you work so hard to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, almost in a kind of relieved. His eyes now glinted humorously.

“Because my darling elf, I was quite hopelessly in love with you. But you are so...quiet and proper and reserved, I wasn’t quite sure how you felt about me. So...I determined a little jealousy would be my ally.”

“Sir! Did you not consider Miss Ingram and her feelings!”

“She was interested in my wealth, nothing more. She quite cooled her ardor when I let it circulate that I had about the third of the estate as estimated.”

“I must say sir, you do lack a certain morality.” I said with false seriousness.

“I do, I do.” He agreed. “But fetch your bonnet. We are off to Milcote for Mrs. Reddington needs some finery.”

I blushed to hear my new name but warned:

“You cannot adorn me in too much finery. I would not be the plain severe clerk you fell in love with.”

“You shall be clothed in the finest silks and satins, like a queen.” He embraced me, his eyes dancing.

“No sir. I am no queen.” I pushed him back rather firmly.

“You are very stubborn.” He clasped me again.

“Very much so.. It is wise that you should learn this now.” I quit his embrace once more. The seductive flash in his eyes said he would not be handled so again.

“Sir - one other question.” I distracted him.

“Another? You’ve had far too many already.” he scoffed playfully, but there was a firm undercurrent to his voice.

“Would you please explain the situation to Mrs. Caplin? I feel quite that she feels something untoward is between us.”

He chewed his lip and took a breath before speaking.

“I will do so but pay no heed to her. She is a conventional woman and no doubt disapproves of the union. She doesn’t not know what happiness will be brought forth.” He bent forward to kiss me once more and I turned my cheek to him, quite overwhelmed by this perpetuation of joy.

“Fetch your bonnet! She will be enlightened!” He declared, leaving the room.

We spent the afternoon in Milcote and I was wearied with the travel but also fending off the threatened purchases of Mr. Reddington. He chose vivid pinks and purples ‘fit for royalty’ but not fit to his Quaker clerk. In the end, we had one ring instead of many jewels and a black and cadet blue fabric to make my dresses. I was relieved to be going home again, looking forward to the gray battlements rising over the hills. 

It struck me suddenly that I would be the mistress of Thornfield. So overcome was I that I shut my eyes and leaned on the arm of my bridegroom. It was so unlikely that happiness could be mine. 

“What is it, my dear?” He asked with concern.

“Nothing, I am just tired.” I told him, taking comfort in his loving tone.

Once back home I had my usual repast with Mrs. Caplin. She was courteous but quiet and her face was troubled. It was a strain to keep eating thusly so I asked her directly.

“Mr. Reddington has told you we are going to be married, has he not?”

“Indeed Miss Scott he has. I...I am trying to get used to the idea.” It seemed to me that she was not at all used to the idea. 

“You think I am unsuitable, I have no money or position to offer?” It was difficult to ask but I had to know.

A look of astonishment came across her face. 

“Oh no, no my dear. “ She smiled ruefully. “You are surely above Mr. Reddington.” She said with some sarcasm. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

“Child, he is so much more experienced than you. And he has lived a full life in which he has made many choices before choosing to marry you. He is willful. He is used to demanding and getting his way, even it might be unwise.”

“And he is unwise to marry me.” Tears stung the corners of my eyes.

“My dear, he is lucky to marry you. Just….take care. Do not lose your level head or your modesty. Be your own person.” Her eyes shone warmth behind her spectacles.

I took this advice and made it my own throughout the swift four weeks of our engagement. When my master’s face flashed with desire I deflected his passion with a coy remark or playful demur.This both frustrated and delighted him. He didn’t declare me ‘lover’ but rather, with frequency, his ‘elf’, ‘witch’ or ‘changeling’ and responded my verbal ripostes with his own deft parries. In truth,I think this made our desires more keen and our eventual joining more sweetly anticipated. 

So taken was I with our game that I lost sight of her warning; indeed almost lost sight of all else; even of myself.


	15. Chapter 15

All the plans and arrangements were done. The precious hours of Elizabeth Scott's existence were ticking down. Elizabeth Reddington was waiting to be born. 

I tossed and turned before falling asleep but I was soon caught in a fitful dream. There was a loud thundering at my bedchamber door followed by the sounds of rough and angry moans. I tried to wake, to move my leaden limbs but could not. When I pushed myself to wakefulness all was silence. I rose from the bed to find my door pushed in as far as the lock would allow; someone or thing had been at my door. I waited but no more sounds disturbed the household. After a long time I fell into a dreamless, exhausted sleep and woke as soon as the sun crossed the counterpane. 

This was my wedding day. Mrs. Caplin and Leah helped me into my ivory damask gown. It was well-fitted but plain like me. They fixed the veil upon my head and we marveled at my image: it was Elizabeth Scott as a blushing and wide-eyed wife to be.

Outside the door my master paced impatient and giving commands through the door.

“I'm taking her to the church now” he barked and Mrs. Caplin lips compressed into a thin line.

“Good luck my dear" she kissed my cheek and gripped my hand. This was less like a wedding party - it seemed more like an emergency. I took one last look into the glass and opened the door .

Mr. Reddington snatched my hand; his grip was hot and strong. He paused in his impatience to let his jade eyes rove over my face and figure.

“You are beautiful, my girl.” He breathed softly, consuming me in a hungry glance, before hastening me down the stairs, yelling orders to the staff.

“Load the carriage; we are setting off as soon as we return.” He told the stabler, indicating the trunks in the main hall.

He move so quickly I was in a hurry to keep up. We nearly ran the the entire way to the small church outside of Hay. My master’s face look defiant and determined, like a man at war more than a man in love.`

I was quite exerted by the time we reached the church where the minister waited. The sextant was to be the sole witness and he was seated in the rear of the pews. 

Once before the minster, Mr. Woods, my master’s grip was even tighter on my hand, and he was holding his breath as if I might somehow be spirited away. I glanced at him through my veil, wondering why my groom revealed no joy or elation. I refocused on the minister’s words when I heard the echo of footsteps in the old wooden church. The minister glanced over my shoulder, pausing for a moment when my master spoke:

“Proceed.”

The minister restarted from when he’d left off

“-if anyone knows of a reason why this union - “

“There is a reason.” A voice spoke from the back of the church. Mr. Reddington’s grip was like iron; neither he nor I turned around.

“Proceed.” He said again, with a knife edge of severity in his quiet tone.

“Sir. we may have to hear - “ the minister said a little tremulously.

“I said proceed.” My master spoke in the same deadly manner.

“There is a reason.” A familiar voice spoke. Finally, my master turned, his face colorless as stone. I glanced and saw Mr. Mason standing a few feet from us. Suddenly Mr. Reddington dropped my hand and leaped upon him, his hands grabbing Mr. Mason’s throat. 

The minister and sextant both came to push him back vigorously and he let go of Mason, panting. Mason rubbed his throat, looking more sad then alarmed.

“I knew you would betray me.” He spat.

“The girl has to know the truth Raymond. She is not free to give consent right now.” Mason began.

“Well, she shall have it. We all shall have the truth.”

Holding my hand once more, we marched en masse to Thornfield, the minister an Mr. Mason in tow. I felt faint in the summer sun as we move relentlessly back to the hall, In the distance I could see a little gathering of maids and footmen with baskets filled with gay colors, waiting to throw flower petals upon us.

“There is no wedding today.” Mr. Reddington told them shortly. He exchanged a glance with a pale Mrs. Caplin and she followed us into the house. He took us up to the forbidden upper level and pounded on a narrow door at the end of the hall.

“Who is it?” Mrs’ Poole’s gravelly voice asked after a moment.

“It’s me Grace.” 

“Yes, sir but beware. He is in a state today.” She unlocked several locks and opened to a plain and shabby room. She locked the door behind us, her face expressionless.  
Pulling out yet more keys, she went to a stouter and lower inner door. She pushed this open carefully and stepped in. Mr. Reddington lead us forward.

“There dear, you have more visitors today.” She said soothingly to a hunched figure. It shambled forward. It was a man with bedraggled dark hair and witless bright blue eyes staring out of a red and bloated face. He was dressed in a ragged gown. He stared blankly our faces, but registered some kind of confusion when seeing Reddington and Mason. He began moving his lips and making sounds, but they were not akin to human speech, but more like an animal’s utterances.

“So this is why you’ve stopped the wedding, Mason. To show this...to this young and innocent girl.” My master choked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The man, who seemed uncoordinated, came forward quickly, his hands balled into fists as he meant to pummel me. His face was twisted in inchoate fury .

My master intercepted his movement and thrust me behind him, arms upward defensively towards the madman. Grace began crooning and coaxing the man to relax his body. He eventually relented, letting himself be led away once more, clinging to her arm.

After some tense silence, Mr. Woods asked Mr. Mason why this interfered with our ceremony.

“I will tell you Reverend. “ My master began chokingly, tears suddenly filling his eyes. “She is not an orphan. This is her father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in posting. My every hope is to finish the whole story. Thanks for reading - hope the necessary divergences from Jane Eyre are acceptable.


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